


Can't Let 'Em Get To You

by expolsion



Category: Handsome Devil (2016)
Genre: Depression, I don't know what else to tag, good friendship!, i guess, ned calls conor by nicknames and i'm living for it, not really shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 18:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13793463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expolsion/pseuds/expolsion
Summary: Conor isn't himself anymore.





	Can't Let 'Em Get To You

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt on tumblr for the song ["Buying Time"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zavgDHedMU)
> 
> Also I know this fandom is pretty much nonexistent so no one will see this, but I'm posting it anyway.

Ned woke up in the wee hours of the morning, pissed that he was going to be shuffling through the day like a zombie, when his internal train of complaints were stopped. Conor’s bed was empty. Now, if Ned had woken at a normal time, this wouldn’t be too concerning. Rugby practices often started before Ned got up. But, it was 5:30 in the morning. Conor was never gone this early. A small flash a panic hit him, but he pushed it down, choosing to look around for Conor before immediately turning to the dean. He might’ve just gone to the bathroom! Yeah. The bathroom. Ned’s thoughts slowed down to just a steady stream, and he sat down at his desk, sitting in the chair sideways so he was facing the door. He looked over at Conor’s desk, and noticed a note taped to the blank wall above the desk. He got up and ripped it off the wall. It read, “Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t run off. Don’t worry.” Ned let himself breathe for a minute, before deciding to go look for his friend. Tugging on his boots, he threw on a jacket and checked that his phone was in his back pocket, then left the room. For a minute, he contemplated just calling Conor, but he noticed Conor’s phone was still plugged in on his desk, so it would be fruitless.

 

It was a chilly morning. Dew was forming on the tips of the deep green grass, and the chill of the winter was only just leaving the air. The rising sun cast a pink and yellow glow on everything it touch, and the birds were only just starting to titter. Ned found Conor on the very edge of the school property, facing the rickety wooden fence and watching the cows on the other side graze. Ned sat down next to him, shelving the thought that his pants would be disgusting by the end of this in the depths of his mind for later. He leaned over and put his head on Conor’s shoulder and they stayed like that for a few minutes, watching the cows and feeling the rising sun beat down gently on their backs. After a while, Ned asked, “You okay?”   


Conor took a deep breath in before responding. “I’m… I don’t know. My head is all mixed up. Nothing feels quite right.”   


Ned sat upright and looked at Conor. He looked like a bloody disaster, his hair was a mess, limp and everywhere, his eyes were bloodshot and puffy, like he’d been crying, and his jaw was set in the way that Ned could tell meant something was bothering him. “Whatever it is, d’ya wanna talk about it?” Ned asked. Alarm bells went off in his head. He had no idea what to do, it’s not like you’re taught how to deal with emotional turmoil, especially someone else’s, but it wasn’t like he could just leave Conor to deal with it. He was stuck at a weird crossroads, where he wanted to run away as fast as he could, but something inexplicable was keeping him there.

“ _ Inexplicable? _ ” The voice in his head jeered. “ _ Inexplicable, my ass. You know exactly what’s keeping you there. _ ” But Ned shut it down fast before it could get him to do anything stupid. 

Lucky for Ned, Conor just sighed. “No, not right now. I… I think I just want to go back to our room.”

At the words ‘our room’, shivers ran down Ned’s spine. But he ignored it, just chalking it up to the chill in the air. “Good,” he replied, “‘Cause it’s fuckin’ freezin’ out here.”

 

* * *

 

 

In the next few days, Ned watched from afar as Conor seemed to disintegrate. But when Conor stopped going to class and practice, Ned took it upon himself to drag the issue out of him so they could at least deal with it. Watching Conor suffer silently like this hurt him more than he liked to admit. 

So the next morning, Ned woke up to his alarm blaring at 7 am, and instead of turning it off, he let it scream on. He got up and made sure to be as loud as possible, and yanked open the blinds. Conor woke up, blinking, and obviously upset. “Ned, what the fuck?” He asked incredulously.    
“Well, Conny-boy, you’ve been sulking for the past week and-” Ned bent down in a squat next to Conor’s bed so they were at eye level. “We need to fix that.”   


Conor just glared at him, so he muttered, “Fine,” and tried to pull Conor out of bed. He landed flat on his ass, and Conor was still lying comfortably in bed, although now he was smiling.    


“Nice try,” Conor said. “You want to have another go?”   


“Aw, fuck you,” was all Ned had to say in response. He glared at Conor, before remembering why he was doing this and softening his stare. “Please, Con. To be quite honest, I’m really worried about you.” He nearly wanted to gag at the words that had just come out of his mouth. That was so sappy! This was really weird. He never acted like this before. The part of his mind he liked to ignore wondered if it was all because of Conor.    


Conor shot him an angry glare and rolled over so he was facing the wall. 

“Dammit, Conor!” Ned exclaimed. “I’m just tryin’ to help you.”    


“Fuck off,” came the mumbled reply.   


Ned felt like slamming his head into the wall. He stood up and flung his hands up to his face. “Conor, you’re not making this easy,” he said in a warning tone, “What, is it O’Keefe? That fucker is a dick. Is Weasel acting up again? ‘Cause you can easily put him in his place. You know that, you’ve done it before. Oh—or is it your dad?” Ned knew he was right when Conor buried himself further into his sheets. “Come on, what did he do this time? Whatever it is, you still have to function, you can’t let him get to you, he doesn’t deserve even that-”   


“Ned.” Conor cut him off mid-sentence. “Please… just go. I know all this already and I just have to… I just have to think.”    


He sounded so defeated that Ned just stalled. “Uh.” he stuttered. “Yeah. Okay.” He turned to leave for breakfast, before remembering something. “One thing—Please remember to eat. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, you haven’t left the dorm at all. This isn’t healthy.”

 

* * *

 

 

Conor waiting for the door to shut before flopping onto his back again. Ned was right, and he knew it. He’d been telling himself all the same things since he’d gotten the call but it was like something was broken. He just couldn’t do, well, anything. He felt like shit, he smelled like shit, and he knew he looked like shit. He was putting himself through a hell of his own making, and it felt like there was nothing he could do about it, though he knew logically that he had all the power. “Fuck!” he mumbled, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop hot, angry tears from falling. His stomach hurt and his mouth was bone dry, and he felt disgusting all around, but he just couldn’t bring himself to get up. He stayed there for about a half hour longer, his pillow damp from the tears, and after the half hour he had made up his mind. He won’t stand for this bullshit. Not his own, not his parents’, not the school’s. And, he was going to take a goddamned shower if it killed him. After about 5 minutes, he had made it to the showers, which were (thankfully) empty since all the students were in class. He took one of the longest showers of his life, standing under the spray until it turned cold and he felt like his legs were going to give out under him. But he did it, he brushed his teeth, and he put on a new set of clothes. He got back to his dorm and he felt triumphant, like he had actually accomplished him. He sat down at his desk, and suddenly felt utterly exhausted, more tired than he had ever been before. His feelings of accomplishment were quickly washed away by the return of the feeling of utter uselessness. Conor felt like he could cry again. He grabbed his phone off the desk and sent a quick text to Ned.

 

_ could u bring me like toast or smth _

_ im finally out of bed ud be proud _

 

God, why did everything have to fucking drain him? He just wanted to be back to normal. His phone dinged, as Ned replied.

 

**congrats**

**welcome back to the land of the living**

 

Conor could vividly see the smirk Ned must be wearing. What an arse. Conor smiled softly to himself. Ned might be an arse, but Conor may or may not love it.

 

* * *

 

 

Ned returned an hour later, with a muffin and a bottle of water. In the time in between, Conor had stripped his bed for the first time that month.    


“Wow, you’re even gonna do laundry?” Ned commented.   


“Yeah, it’s gross at this point.”    


“No fucking kidding!” Ned leaned over and sniffed Conor’s hair. “Oh, shit, you showered too?”  


“Yes,” Conor snapped back, grabbing the muffin and water from Ned’s outstretched hand. “Fuck off, I’m still human.”   


“You weren’t acting like it,” Ned mumbled under his breath.   


Conor shot Ned an incredulous look. “Did you really think I couldn’t hear that?”   


Ned only cocked an eyebrow in a skeptical look as a response. Yeah, Ned was definitely an arse. But for some reason, talking and joking with him like this made Conor feel better than he had in the past few weeks.    


“Feelin’ better?” Ned asked in a soft tone, nodding towards the muffin that had a few bites taken out of it.    


Conor’s eyes met Ned’s, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. Yeah, a lot better.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr [@genderfluid-jaredkleinmann](genderfluid-jaredkleinmann.tumblr.com)


End file.
